


Repeat Offense

by rosesofred



Series: Prodigal Brat [2]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Domestic Discipline, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Sexual, OTK, Over the Knee, Punishment, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21731005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosesofred/pseuds/rosesofred
Summary: Malcolm puts himself in danger again and as promised, Gil disciplines him for it. Warning: contains spanking!
Series: Prodigal Brat [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566229
Comments: 12
Kudos: 67





	Repeat Offense

**Author's Note:**

> Yo so your girl is an insomniac and all my inspiration comes to me in the middle of the night. Sis has not had sleep and I apologize for any errors there may be, its the middle of the night and I am sleep deprived. But as always, please comment if you liked it and enjoy!

Malcolm hadn’t seen Gil this mad since that night he came to his apartment and disciplined him. It’d been a while but he’d been doing so well, Arroyo was really proud of him for being so good, following orders, not trying to get himself killed. But today? Today his son had intentionally followed a known killer into a dark tunnel and almost got himself killed. Again. He’d been planning on just giving the boy a lecture but it didn’t seem like that would be enough. “Go home. Get some rest.”

“Gil, I-”

Waving a finger at him, the lieutenant used his best disapproving father voice to scold him. “I don’t want to hear it, city boy. I expect you to be at your loft in an hour, is that clear?”

Eyes going wide, Malcolm gripped his rib in pain as he stared in disbelief at his father figure. “You can’t mean- Gil, no!”

“You better believe it, because it’s happening. Now go home. I’ll be there in an hour. And if you’re not there, Malcolm I swear to god-”

“Can’t we just talk about it?” the consultant interrupted him, trying to stand up taller so as to appear strong. 

“Oh we’ll be talking about it, but you’re getting spanked whether you like it or not.” Malcolm blushed deeply at hearing his mentor say it aloud, swallowing hard. “Don’t make me say it again, Malcolm. Go home.”

“Yes, sir,” the boy whispered, his head lowered in defeat.

He made his way home as Gil had instructed him but the urge to escape, to run away, was so strong it felt like an itch. He looked at the clock and figured he had about twenty minutes before his boss barged in to reprimand him. Just thinking about it made the man’s backside twinge in phantom pain, he really didn’t want this to happen. But knowing Gil, this was going to happen no matter what Malcolm did and that thought terrified him.

The man paced the floor, back and forth, stealing a glance at the clock again. Fifteen minutes more. Making himself a drink, he sipped it as he leaned against the wall, trying in vain to distract himself from the butterflies in his stomach. His ribs still hurt like hell, maybe Gil would go easy him, or maybe he wouldn’t even spank him. Maybe he could talk the lieutenant out of it, make him see reason. Ten minutes left. Sighing, Malcolm made his way to the bed, setting his glass down on the nightstand. He laid down on the bed, closing his eyes for a brief moment as exhaustion took over.

“Malcolm,” came a soft voice from above him. Eyes fluttering open, Bright looked up to see Gil standing over him, a long wooden paddle in his hands. Startling awake, Malcolm jumped back on the bed, scurrying away from the man. “Hey, calm down its ok.” Gil put the offensive item on the nightstand, reaching his hands towards the boy to calm him. “You were sleeping. That’s good.”

“I don’t remember falling asleep,” Malcolm admitted, breathing heavy. His ribs hurt something awful but he tried his best not to grimace. Nodding his head towards the paddle, the consultant gave a disgusted look. “Why do you have that?”

Gil set his jaw, realizing it was time to begin the process. It wasn’t going to be easy but he knew this and was prepared for whatever Malcolm threw his way. “Well I think you’ve earned it.” He folded his hands in finality, staring down at the boy with a look of authority.

“Earned it?” Malcolm couldn’t take his eyes off the paddle, his heart beating fast. He’d never been paddled before but he assumed it hurt like hell. Bright got up from the bed, backing up towards the wall. “All I did was chase a suspect.”

“Oh thats all you did?” Gil scoffed at the boy’s nonchalant attitude, of course he wouldn’t see the error in his actions. He took a step towards him, careful not to spook the man. “You don’t think you did anything wrong?” Another step, carefully calm.

Shaking his head, Malcolm took a step back towards his nightstand, hands up in defense. “No, I don’t. I was just doing my job.”

“Three simple words, Malcolm.”

Face twisted into a look of defiance and annoyance, Malcolm clenched his hand into a fist. “I’m not saying it.”

“Then I think our talk is over.” He took the opportunity now to rush towards him, taking the surprised consultant by the arm. Sitting down on the bed, Arroyo pulled him closer, grabbing him by the belt.

“No, wait please, please-” Malcolm shoved his hands away, trying to back away from the angry man. “My ribs hurt, I’m in a lot of pain.”

“You’ll survive,” Arroyo replied. “Don’t fight me on this Malcolm.” he grabbed at the boy’s belt, swatting his hands away when the man tried to stop him. “The more you fight me on this, the more I’m going to use that paddle on you.”

Frozen in fear, Malcolm gulped and allowed his mentor to undo his belt, blushing furiously as he felt his pants being tugged down to his knees. “Please?” he whispered, his last bit of hope hanging on the word.

Sighing, Arroyo shook his head. “Sorry, kid.” he reached for one of the pillows, placing it beside his leg so Malcolm would have something soft to lie on. “Easy now,” he reassured as he guided the consultant down across his knee. He wanted to punish the young man, not torture him. “So you don’t think you did anything wrong?”

Malcolm shook his head, quickly hiding his face in the blankets on his bed. “No,” came his soft answer.

“Well I guess we’re going to be here a while.” His hand landed harshly, harder than he usually hit. He wanted to make this memorable, wanted to make sure his son never took a chance like this again. He started up a steady rhythm, landing calculated blows down on one area at a time, only moving to a new spot once the skin was red and hot. It wasn’t long before Malcolm was squirming on the man’s lap, his hips moving back and forth to avoid the attacking hand.

“Stop!” Malcolm lifted his head, letting out a groan of pain that Arroyo hadn’t expected. “I don’t deserve this, Gil,” he argued. He tried to push himself up but the lieutenant was quick to push him back down, gentle enough not to hurt his ribs. 

“I think you do, Malcolm. Do you remember those three words I wanted you to repeat?” There was a long silence before Gil moved the smacks down to the boy’s sit spots, making the sting almost unbearable before moving to a new sit spot. Squirming frantically now, Malcolm clenched his hands into fists, gritting his teeth through the pain. 

“Yes, I remember them!”

“And they were?” 

“I’m not saying it!” the man spat, pushing his hands against Gil’s side in an attempt to escape.

“You want the paddle now?”

Malcolm jolted in surprise, freezing for a moment as he thought of what to do. Making the worst choice possible, he kicked his legs back and forth, throwing his fists down against Gil’s leg and side. “No, no no!”

Reaching back, Gil grabbed the paddle, resting it against the boy’s backside. Malcolm panicked, aborting his tantrum and instead throwing his hands back to cover his backside. “Move your hands, Malcolm.” The consultant shook his head no, his body shaking slightly with adrenaline. “Alright, you asked for it.” Gil grabbed one of the boy’s hands, palm up, and cracked down the paddle on the center of it. The younger man gasped in pain, yanking his stinging hand back to hold under his chest in safety. “Every time you reach back, expect that.”

Wasting no time, Gil lifted the paddle, slamming it down against the boy’s sore posterior. The consultant let out a strangled yelp, not believing the amount of pain the item caused. “No!” Malcolm instinctively reached his hands back again, stopping at his thighs and holding them there.

“Do I need to use this on your hands again or are you going to behave?”

Taking his hands back to rest in front of him, Malcolm gripped the blankets tightly and shook his head. “I’ll behave.”

“That’s more like it,” Gil praised. He lifted the paddle again, slamming it down against the boy’s backside. He jolted in pain, shifting his hips but holding his position. Gil was proud of the boy, if he had to admit it. It wasn’t easy getting paddled, and his son was handling it like a man. He cracked down the paddle again, then again and again until it was coming down in a steady, horrible rhythm. “You want to tell me those three words?”

Sighing in frustration, Malcolm lifted his head. “Call for backup.”

“Good,” Gil used his other hand to pat the boy’s back in reassurance. “And why do you need to call for backup?”

“Because you don’t trust me to do my job.” The sassy response left Malcolm’s lips before he even had time to think it over and he immediately felt regret.

“That’s not true and you know it.” Gil moved to the boy’s sit spots now, causing the consultant to buck his hips, all previous regard for his stoicism thrown out the window. 

“Ow, please Gil! My ribs hurt!” he lied, twisting his body in pain. Of course his ribs hurt, but no more than they were before the spanking began.

Stopping immediately, Gil threw the paddle to the side, rubbing a hand across his son’s back. “Are you ok?”

“I think we should stop,” Malcolm added, hoping his manipulation wouldn’t be noticed.

Snorting, Gil grabbed the boy’s underwear, tugging them down quickly to join his pants. “Of course you do.” He lifted his hand once more, slapping the man’s dark pink backside with no mercy. If he wanted to lie and manipulate that was fine, but he wasn’t going to let the boy get away with it. Malcolm groaned in embarrassment, burying his head in his arms in shame.

“Do you have to?” he asked, hoping that there was some chance Gil could not spank him bare.

“I think I do. Obviously you need to be taught a lesson about lying.”

“I wasn’t lying!” he lied.

“Oh really?” he continued slapping his hand down, the sound echoing through the room as they argued. “So when you said you were 100% fine, you were being honest?”

Taking a moment to think over his answer, Malcolm knew that no lie was good enough to get him out of that one. “No…”

“And what should you have done if you were struggling?”

“I don’t know,” Bright admitted.

Gil moved his attack to the boy’s sit spots, eliciting a yelp and a few grunts. “You should have come to me! Malcolm, I am here for you. I understand. Come to me.”

“Ok, I will! Please stop!”

“And what do you do before chasing a killer?”

“Call for backup!”

“And what do you not do?”

“Lie!”

Gil stopped now, resting his hand against the consultant’s hot thigh. “Good. You wanna tell me why lying isn’t ok?”

“I don’t know,” Malcolm groaned.

Arroyo shook his head, lifting his hand again. “Because we’re a team, and you don’t lie to your team.” He set a steady rhythm again, peppering every spot of the boy’s posterior in stinging blows. “Nobody will trust you if you lie, and you can’t have a team without trust.”

“Ok, I understand!”

“What do you understand?”

“No trust is bad, lying isn’t ok!”

“Good. And why is chasing criminals without backup bad?”

“Nobody trusts me.”

Shocked at the boy’s response, Gil stopped again. “No.” He was so close to getting through to his son, and as much as he hated to do this, he knew it had to be done. The older man picked up the paddle, resting it against the consultant’s hot skin. He had to hold the boy down as his struggles increased but it didn’t deter him from what he knew needed to be done. Gil landed the paddle down on Malcom’s backside, holding on as the boy struggled. “You are important.” Another blow. “People care about you.” Malcolm twisted but the paddle found its target once again. “You can’t go risking your life like that.” Throwing the paddle to the side again, Arroyo rubbed the sting out of his son’s abused posterior, his hand gentle but firm.

Malcolm’s breath hitched on a sob, his throat feeling tight as tears threatened to spill over. He nodded his head in understanding, wishing for it to be over. “I understand.”

“What do you understand?”

“People- people care about me,” he took a deep breath, feeling the first tear fall down his face as the floodgates broke. Did people really care about him? “Can’t risk.”

“Good enough,” Gil smiled sadly. “Have you learned your lesson?”

Malcolm nodded his head vehemently, trying in vain to stop the tears. “Yes.”

Arroyo gently rearranged the boy’s clothes to their proper place, not bothering with the belt. He lifted his son up, heart breaking at the sight of Malcolm’s tear streaked face. “I’m sorry I was so hard on you but you earned it. How do your ribs feel?”

“Fine,” Malcolm lied. Feeling Arroyo grab his arm and turn him, he immediately jumped back, hands going to guard his posterior. “I’m sorry! They hurt, but not bad.”

“No more lying,” Gil lectured. Seeing Malcolm nod in agreement, he stood up and wrapped the boy in his arms, giving him the best reassuring hug he could.

“I’m sorry for causing so much trouble,” the younger man muttered into his shoulder.

Arroyo looked down at him, so glad his son was here and not dead. “If we have to have this discussion again its going to be worse. Ok?”

Malcolm nodded his head in understanding, though he hated it. “Ok.”


End file.
